Savage
by Ollaboo
Summary: One of Mello's accomplices branches out, taking the Kira investigation into the realm of a savage mind. :: OC/MELLO :: See warnings.
1. prelude

A/N: This is just an introduction to the story. From this chapter on, the story will be in first person. :) This is just getting the basic concept and images down pat. Review please! YOU FLAME=YOU FAIL.

SUMMARY: One of Mello's accomplices branches out, taking the Kira investigation into the realm of a savage, unstable mind. :: OC/MELLO ::

RATED: M, for "Mature Mofo"

WARNINGS: Violence, drugs, weapons, prostitution, explicit date rape, and implied yaoi.

* * *

. s a **v** a g e .

; prelude.

The cards were aligned, the dealer's hands shaking as he served the round table, the sound of thick paper scraping against green felt making a bead of sweat dew on the back of his neck. His crazed eyes were wide, the tense atmosphere making his breath escalate until his heart pounded against his ribcage, his paled skin now knitted together at his brow.

Large men with strange tattoos had descended from the slot machines to this particular poker table, each of their faces painted with the desire to kill. Ten of them surrounded the quivering old man, slumped, not daring to lift his head and let them see how scared he was. After all, that's the way things worked around here.

His visor now tilted a certain way, blocking his expression from the fierce observers that gathered hesitantly at the unstable wooden chairs. Rotted and weathered, they threatened to collapse. But of course the focus wasn't on the seating. Each pair of shadow concealed eyes were glued to the shaken man, whose mouth didn't utter a single word, whose sagged skin portrayed the scars that only a poor man could bear.

"Respecting your elders is the most common display of intellect, you know."

All heads turned to the end of the table, seeing only the shadow of the poor lighting cast on one of the rotten pieces of furniture. But soon enough, a portion of luminous, paper white skin was visible, and the color of coral pink that painted the shape of small lips. Thick smoke, one only the finest cigars could produce, flooded from these lips - floating upward until it vanished.

More emerged, the blackest of black suits coating a tiny, dark figure - which did no justice to the china doll skin that it swaddled. Under a hat of nigrescent cascaded the palest blond strands of hair, reaching to the figure's chest. Streaks of gray were poised as well within the sea of nearly white, the light dancing off of each individual breast length piece.

The figure's head tilted upward only slightly, but enough to reveal a shock of the lightest blue in its irises, the color of the brightest skies. Thick black eyelashes rimmed large eyes, though underneath the lids displayed a sickly gray.

A small hand brought the burning cigar to the lips again, the onlookers' gazes turning feral in a heartbeat, only to realize that the figure was one of a girl. Her lips coiled up in an unmistable lopsided grin, a portion of gleaming white teeth revealed, her stature completely calm and relaxed. More apathetic, in a way. She didn't meet any of the lingering stares that stuck to her, yet they would look at her like a piece of meat. The silence was hard to bear.

She, in such haste, whipped out a roll of money, slamming it harshly on the tabletop, leaning on her extended arms as her face was shadowed. Her piercing eyes met the old man's, and he immediately looked like he was going to pass out. Her grin faded, and her facial muscles were relaxed to the point that she looked almost dead, if it weren't for those glowing blue circles that came in a striking pair.

"You play your games of chance, gentlemen - yet when the cards aren't in your favor, you blame others for whatever possessed you to place your money on this table..Tell me..does it satisfy you, to know that you've lost the game?"

Her voice, at first like soft winter silk, now became rough and desperate. Did they not get the message? Was it really so hard to get through their thick skulls? All these lives in here were going to be taken, by a trio of explosives planted in the basement. Perhaps she had been wrong. Maybe there was no hope for the innocent, besides Kira. But Mello had detested.

And his orders were strictly enforced, not that she followed them. But this time..it wasn't optional. These rival gang members had to die, and unfortunately, that came with the small price of additional lives being taken. This, oddly enough, did not bother the fair skinned beholder. The detonator rested soundly in the pocket of her expensive suit, and she was not hesitant to turn on her heel, leaving the faces behind. They were blank with confusion, and that's all they would feel before they died. It wasn't her fault. It wasn't..

Once she was outside the cheap wooden door of the local bar, she pulled out the panel with the small red switch in the middle, which would cause the small building to explode. She didn't hesitate to jaywalk, hearing the vicious blares of car horns. The soft breeze, scented like drugs, cheap perfume, and smoke, tenderly brushed her hair over her shoulder. She disregarded the brief kindness of the atmosphere and trailed her fingers over the potential weapon, lingering on the switch.

She didn't look back before tugging it, gingerly, like a lover would tug playfully at their partner's hands in a shameless display of affection.

She felt the heat grow steadily against her back as she tossed the evidence into the gutter, the orange light luminating the windows in front of her. She heard the cries of children and screeching of tires, but her eyes were fixed on nothing, feeling only the world's weight on her shoulders. Not the cold wind that blew, not the warmness that slowly spread across the way as the explosion died out, leaving only embers to remind the world of what cruelty could do to disfigure even the most structured person.

She could hear her name being whispered, perhaps by herself. She didn't care enough to check.

_Resa, oh Resa..My sweet little Resa.._

_Why do you kill me so softly,_

_So sweetly?_

_Your sins are surely pure, little girl._

_Why do you cry tears of only hatred_

_When you can cry tears of only love?_

_Rest with the stars, little girl. _

_For the woman that replaces you is not kind. _


	2. memoir

A/N: Tabby here! Chapter two has arrived!! Just to let you know, I should be able to update this at least every other day. :) Please review for the next chapter!

* * *

. s a **v** a g e .

; memoir.

_induction._

I had never been one to make creative entrances.

I was almost invisible, and it seemed like I only got noticed by people who didn't have a right conscience. They were like moths drawn to a null flame, and I had let them transform me into something I don't recognize anymore. It's not that I don't have a sense of right and wrong, just a pretty blurred vision of this world Kira is trying to create. A world without criminals? But then how could someone decipher between good and evil? This was just a bad situation, and I feel like I've just made it worse. I desired to be a cameo in this whole production, just another face to most people who had no idea what they had coming to them. And apparently, that was what allowed me my place under Mello.

He had me sit down in a worn office chair, and of course, it was too dark to see his face. It was clear that he didn't want me to. I had caught a glimpse of his cornsilk colored hair, shaped neatly in a feminine bob, brushing lightly against his smaller shoulders. His hands were just a bit larger than mine, which was not big at all. He would be short, too - if it weren't for the platform combat boots that were laced to his feet.

Just how old was he now? Fifteen? Sixteen?

The crack in the blinds allowed some light to shed through, allowing some of his profile to be on display. His skin looked smooth, sunkissed. He had the coldest blue eyes, that narrowed only slightly, just enough to be intimidating. They were deeper than mine, and that was something I envied most about this familiar leather clad boy. All of the sudden, the portion of his face that I managed to see crinkled up, his lips curving upward in a mischievous grin. This provoked my own crooked smile, and I felt my hair being stroked, a strange sensation at the least. He was leaned over the desk, his gloved hand trailing along the side of my face. My smile faded. His fingers, trailing down my cheek now, made me too uncomfortable - I found it hard to breathe. It disgusted me, to say the least, that he would touch me so affectionately. I tilted my chin up, pressing my lips in a fine line, and he froze, taking his hand away.

"And here I thought that you would say something," He muttered, the sick grin flaunted in his voice. I sneered, trying to find his gaze in the dark.

"I have nothing to say."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"You sure? 'Cause this is your chance before you're not able to talk to me like you normally would."

"Or what?" I said quietly, blinking. He didn't like that too much. I heard him growl and curse under his breath. He was containing himself, probably to the best of his ability.

"Or I'll slap the hell out of you," He hissed, visibly tensing.

Despite my true intentions of helping Mello, I realized then that pleasing him would be the hardest thing to do. The drugs, the alcohol, the prostitutes. All of his favorite trump cards. He'd just ignore everything else, wouldn't listen to anyone, and would die alone. I think that he'd already accepted that, though. It didn't affect me at all - I knew Mello was a problem way back when.

"Of course, abuse is always a way of getting people to do what you want." I replied, apathetic and tiredly. Mello had such a temper. A rebel since he was young, with no future but to die for something he couldn't reach. That was always his plan. The silence had grown tense, he refused to speak, though I felt his angry trembles from the other side of the desk.

"Having me blow up a casino wasn't the brightest idea for an inductional task, you know."

This only seemed make the mood darker. It was a few more seconds of complete quiet before he piped up.

"It's another diversion for Kira, dumbass. I've been trying to get as many of these things to happen at once so it'll give me more time to think. And as long as you keep quiet and don't tell anyone your real name, I doubt Kira can reach us." He snapped, leaning back in his chair and kicking his feet up on the desk, folding his hands behind his head. His eyes closed.

This surprised me. Kira? I knew Mello was after him, but..to have me intentionally blow up a building full of innocent people just to prove a point? That Kira wasn't smart enough to figure it out? I huffed. I was growing tired of Mello's games. But as usual, I didn't object. I sat still, motionless while people were dying. While Mello's mind was turning up these stupid ideas that would eventually kill us all. Was it really that hard to catch a man? Mello must've sensed the change in my mood, because he laughed gruffly. I scoffed to myself. Was I really that easy to read? I had worked on my emotions for years, and yet this, of all things, was coaxing them out of their bat cave where everything else I don't need goes. He sighed.

"You've always been the ambitious type, you just don't like to show it. You know you enjoyed planting those explosives.."

I could hear the smile in his voice. A witty reply? Nope, that wouldn't do in this situation. It got me thinking, actually thinking about what to say. Had I really enjoyed myself while people suffered in the fire that I created? No. I remember briefly feeling the adrenaline and slight regret, but enjoying myself..it just didn't work out that way. I pursed my lips, subtly throwing a fit of confusion. Honestly..

"I didn't feel a thing," I retorted, in a resigned tone. He really knew how to get me worked up, just by asking me a simple question. That was because I hated Mello, and I was afraid of him. Not of him physically, hell - he's just a little taller than me. But emotionally, he's the one who knew me enough to hurt me. I heard him sucking on his bottom lip, but I was blinded by the dark. I wanted to look him in the eyes. Even if it was just one time, I'd tell him everything without saying anything at all. I think he knew that, too.

"..Really? That's not surprising at all, coming from someone who catered to a fucking human sheep," He snapped, and the chair creaked as he stood, his boots clonking on the wooden floor. He came closer, and I leaned the opposite direction of his noises. I grinned in spite of myself. He still harbored that deadly grudge against Near, the primary successor of the man we never got to see, but wasted our childhood on. I did take to the fair skinned, ivory haired boy that barely spoke, playing his games all astray on the floor, his timid hand placing the pieces with clear intellect. He was always first. Others _would_ cater to him, just to have the privilege of saying that they did. I looked up, the light suddenly flicking on. It was bad lighting, but enough to luminate the room. I immediately glanced behind my shoulder, meeting a pair of blazing, angry blue eyes. I felt satisfaction swell in my chest.

"It's been a while, _Mihael_," I murmured, smirking, and I got a silly grin in return. That was his real name, after all. He let me call him that occasionally at the orphanage, though it was forbidden. Even then, at eight years old, we were smart enough to learn the trick of the trade. You tell me yours, I'll tell you mine.

"Welcome to Los Angeles, Resa."

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ALSOOOO:

I would like to feature some reviewers in the next chapter (just to get more people recognized) so make sure you write something! It doesn't matter if it's in Spanish, just say somethinnn'. :)

-Tab


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